


Love Me (Not)

by NoirSongbird



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining, Sheith Month 2017, clone!shiro, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/pseuds/NoirSongbird
Summary: Keith has loved Shiro for as long as he can remember. The flowers are a recent development, but it's something he's content to deal with. Shiro might not reciprocate his feelings, but just being near him has always been enough.The problem is, Shiro is gone.





	Love Me (Not)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my entry for day 25 of Sheith Month, off the prompt "gladiolus"! It was flowers. I had to. There was nothing else I could do.

It was amazing, what a person could get used to.

It had taken Keith a few weeks to get used to coughing up flowers every time Shiro smiled at him, and now he no longer startled when it began. He had gotten good at making it subtle, and at holding it back when even subtle coughs were likely to draw too much attention. He was pretty sure he’d kept his affliction private, especially since there was no way Shiro would let it pass uncommented upon. He cared far too much to not check on Keith when he was suffering.

Keith supposed the one upside to him being gone was that he didn’t have to worry about it anymore.

The downside, of course, was that as soon as he realized Black’s cockpit was empty, he’d hit the ground in front of the entire team and coughed up a whole cascade of purple gladiolus petals, and now they all knew. There wasn’t exactly much point in denying it.

They pitied him, he knew. The looks were plenty, but he also caught whispers behind his back. That was fine. Their pity meant they let him keep searching, and no one tried to press too hard, because -- what? They were worried he’d collapse in a cascade of flowers if anyone tried to convince him Shiro was dead?

They let him go on for months, searching the galaxy night after night, hoping to find something - some sign of what had happened, some….some vague idea of where Shiro might have gone.

Every time he found nothing, he came back to the castle and vomited up flowers, and hated himself a little. He knew there was work to do. He knew there were planets to save. But he couldn’t just let go of Shiro. It wasn’t right - he couldn’t just abandon the man he loved, who might be lost, and hurting. Who might need rescue. Keith hadn’t been able to save him from the Galra the first time he was captured. He’d been stuck on Earth, mourning the loss of his best friend, and Shiro had suffered for a _year._

There was no way Keith was going to let that happen again.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t easy, chasing faint leads through the vast expanse of space, and Keith knew the team’s tolerance for his grieving was running thin. Hell, his _own_ tolerance for it was starting to. He was still utterly desperate to get Shiro back, but they couldn’t afford to be unable to form Voltron any longer.

He knew it, he knew it as soon as the members of the Alliance started pressing, and yes, he’d stormed out of the meeting (and vomited up a pile of flowers because _Shiro was gone and no one could replace him and how dare they try to)_ but he still knew. Understood the reality of the situation. And the reality of the situation was that Voltron needed a leader.

So, fine.

The Black Lion wanted him to pilot her? He’d pilot her. He’d lead Voltron. He’d...defend the universe, or whatever.

It was even a good distraction. Throwing himself into chasing after Lotor meant that he couldn’t focus quite so much on missing Shiro. The pain wasn’t _gone,_ of course - he curled up in his bunk late at night and coughed up flowers and, sometimes, cried, because it was so _lonely_ without him - but at least he could focus on something else. Anything else.

He knew he was throwing himself into it too hard. He knew he was being reckless and putting his team in danger. But it was the only way he knew how to do anything.

If he gave all of himself to Voltron, there wouldn’t be anything of him left to grieve.

 

* * *

 

Seeing Sven almost broke him.

It was close, _so close --_ for a moment he’d thought they’d found Shiro again, somehow, improbably, on that derelict Altean ship. He’d known it was outside the realm of the possibility but _those eyes and that face and --_

And it hadn’t been Shiro, of course it hadn’t been. That would have been too easy, too convenient. Keith knew he’d already gotten his one easy reunion.

It made him more determined to fight for this one. And with all the revelations about alternate realities, he had a theory.

“Slav,” Keith didn’t bother knocking or announcing himself, just walked into Slav’s lab on the Castle, “do you think it’s possible Shiro got thrown into some other reality?”

Slav looked surprised to see him, and then concerned - Keith knew he couldn’t look very good, he hadn’t been sleeping much - but the proposition made his eyes light up.

“That,” he said, “would very much explain where our fearless leader has gone.” He began scurrying between pieces of equipment.

“If he’s in one, could you find him?” Keith asked.

“Potentially, yes!” Slav said. “There are infinite possibilities, of course, and many many realities, and our Shiro could be in any of them, but there might be ways...if we could pinpoint what _our_ reality looks like in comparison to others…” He began flitting from device to device. “Go. Tell the Princess I will need to speak to her about supplies. We can begin as soon as possible.”

 

* * *

 

It was funny, how things worked out.

It wasn’t more than a day or two after his conversation with Slav that Black picked up the ping, the _signature._

_Shiro._

The one person he’d longed to see. He’d been willing to work with Slav to rip apart the fabric of reality if it brought Shiro back to him, and there he was, like some sort of gift from above. Pulling him in from that tiny Galra fighter was probably one of the most horrifying moments of Keith’s life -- he’d been so cold, so _still,_ and Keith had feared for a long moment that they’d been too late, until he felt Shiro’s breath on his shoulder.

He raced him to the healing pod, and let him rest, and wondered at what had happened to him. Obviously it was something to do with the Galra, but the details would have to wait until he was conscious.

Keith would have a chance to ask him. Keith would get to see him again, to fly with him, to just...be in his presence.

 _Shiro was back._ Shiro was alive, and in a healing pod, and even though Keith’s instinct was to stay with the pod until Shiro came out of it, sitting in the cryo bay for close to twelve hours wouldn’t do him any good. He could hold vigil when it was closer to time to wake Shiro up, because he wanted to be sure that he was one of the first things Shiro saw.

That night, for the first time in months, Keith slept _well._

 

* * *

 

Keith knew something was wrong when he realized that he wasn’t coughing up nearly as many flowers around Shiro as he used to.

The disease was in a much more advanced state than it had been when he disappeared - Keith was wholly conscious of that. Hanahaki didn’t get better on its own without reciprocation of feelings, and Keith had no more indication of that with Shiro than he had before.

And yet. Before it had been Shiro’s kindness that forced him to slip off and find a private place to cough; now it was his cruelty, his strange, alarming coldness, the way he yanked command out from under Keith’s feet and left Keith feeling like he might as well have been grounded.

It wasn’t right. Shiro wasn’t _like that._ Keith was more than conscious of his flaws as a pilot, as a leader - he knew he was impulsive and instinctual and he relied far too much on those things. But he also knew that Shiro wouldn’t make him feel small and worthless. That wasn’t Shiro’s way; it never had been.

Keith wondered if maybe the improvement in his symptoms was because he was falling out of love - if this strange change in Shiro’s behavior was changing his feelings.

And then Shiro would do something so achingly familiar, so _Shiro,_ and he’d end up having to duck out of the room, doubled over and hacking up flowers, and he knew he was still in love.

But something was off with Shiro.

It was after a particularly bad fight with Lotor that Shiro cornered him - and it really had been _bad,_ Keith had ended up in one on one combat with the Prince and he was _horrendously_ outclassed. Only a particularly good shot from Lance that sent Lotor retreating had saved him.

He was expecting Shiro to berate him. That was mostly what he expected when he screwed up these days.

“I know I screwed up,” Keith said, hoping to head off the lecture at the pass, “but I had to go after him, I’m the only close combatant in the group besides Pidge and she’d have been --” Shiro grabbed his shoulders, and Keith realized it wasn’t anger or frustration in his eyes, it was concern.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Shiro said, desperately. “It killed me, seeing you out there, fighting him, and knowing there wasn’t anything I could do, I--” he stopped and suddenly he was pulling Keith in, and Shiro’s lips were on Keith’s and Keith groaned a little desperately, slinging his arms around the taller man’s shoulders and leaning in. This was it, this was exactly what he’d longed for practically since he’d _met_ Shiro, what he’d been coughing up flowers for want of --

He couldn’t breathe, suddenly, throat filled with petals, and he staggered back and started coughing, the force of it taking him to his knees. A cascade of purple gladiolus petals came up, and they brought flecks of blood with them, and it just _would not stop._

He wasn’t sure if he started crying because of the coughing or because he felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

“Keith!” Shiro -- _not Shiro_ , Keith knew that for sure now -- knelt down in front of him. “Keith, what’s going on?”

“You’re not Shiro,” Keith gasped out. “I don’t know who you _are_ , but you’re not Takashi Shirogane.”

“What are you talking about?” Shiro asked, and there was something like terror in his eyes along with agonizing pain, and Keith never wanted to see that expression on _any_ Shiro’s face ever again, but this was _necessary._

“I have hanahaki. I’ve had it for months. Over you - over _Shiro._ If you were him,” Keith choked briefly on a sob, “if you were him, it would’ve stopped when you kissed me. But you’re _not._ ”

“Keith,” not-Shiro reached for him, and Keith recoiled, stumbling into a standing position.

“I have to go.”

He ran. It was cowardly, and childish, but he ran, and ducked into his room, and vomited up a cascade of bloody petals and wanted, desperately, to wake up and discover this was all some horrible nightmare.

But it wasn’t.

He’d thought he had Shiro back, but it was a fake. He’d suspended Slav’s efforts, when they could have kept working to bring the real Shiro home.

Instead, Keith feared that the delay meant they might have lost him forever.

 

* * *

 

There was a knock at his door, and he didn’t want to answer it.

“Keith,” he winced. Of course it was the imposter - this terrible not-Shiro. “Can we talk?”

He wanted to say no.

“Yes,” he croaked instead, because he couldn’t deny any version of Shiro anything.

The doors opened, and not-Shiro stepped through, and Keith refused to look at him.

“I think you’re right,” he admitted, and he sounded terribly pained, and that _hurt._ “I think...I think I _am_ a fake. A clone. The Galra...I kept hearing them talk about _Operation Kuron.”_ Keith looked up, to see he had his face buried in his hands. He looked so utterly _miserable,_ so... _broken._ Like the revelation of his nature had shattered him. “I think I’m Operation Kuron.”

“Probably,” Keith admitted. Not-Shiro - Kuron, that would do as a name to call him in Keith’s head - slowly sank to the ground and pushed his hands through his hair.

“Why would they do that?” Kuron asked, a little desperately.

“I don’t know,” Keith admitted. He had ideas, and all of them were awful. The best way to tear Voltron apart from the inside, after all, would be with one of their own, and who better to use than Shiro? The one they all trusted, looked up to. Loved, in their own ways, as a friend or a mentor or an idol or as...a beloved. “Whatever it is, it’s probably not good.”

“Probably not,” Kuron agreed miserably. “Are you going to tell everyone else?”

Wasn’t that the question of the hour.

“I…” Keith considered. “No,” he said, finally. “Not yet. I think...they need you. They need Shiro. But we _are_ going to tell Slav.”

“Slav?” Kuron’s brow furrowed. “Why Slav?”

“Because I think he might be able to use you as a focus, so we can start looking for our Shiro again.” Keith said bluntly.

“So you can...bring him home.” Kuron said. There was something sad and distant in his voice. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll help. Just...point me at the lab.”

Of course he would, because he wasn’t Shiro, but he was...almost Shiro. Built to be as much like him as possible.

“Thank you,” Keith said, and Kuron gave him a long look, and for a moment Keith thought he was going to say something. Instead, he just shook his head and stepped back through the doors.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go talk to Slav.”

 

* * *

 

It all happened so fast, Keith wasn’t sure it was real.

It was another raid on a Galra base, backed by the Blade of Marmora. The problem was, once again, Lotor was ready for them. He’d laid a trap, and there was a veritable army of sentries waiting, backed by actual Galra forces, and the Paladins quickly found themselves overwhelmed. Keith lost track of how long they were fighting, of how many he cut down, but it had to be a long while. When one went down, it seemed like two more took its place.

He heard an angry yell from somewhere in the crowd of sentinels, and then, before his eyes, he watched as a single figure cut a swath through them.

“Shiro!” He heard Lance shout in elation, and yes -- it was Kuron, Galra arm glowing bright purple, hacking his way through the army of sentries.

He wasn’t Shiro, but he _fought_ like Shiro, with the same almost-predatory grace. Keith found his breath stolen away the way it always was when Shiro fought, but he couldn’t stare for too long. There were too many sentries for that.

He felt Kuron fall in against his back, the way he and Shiro used to fight, and an ache of nostalgia stole his breath away.

“You okay?” Kuron asked.

“Yeah,” Keith replied. “You’re just in time, too, it was getting hairy here.” Kuron snorted.

“I’m sure you had it under control.” He said. Keith glanced over his shoulder and was met with a grinning Kuron, and he couldn’t help but grin back. It felt like having Shiro back.

( _Maybe,_ a traitorous part of him thought, _it could be just like having Shiro back. Maybe he could learn to love Kuron too.)_

He fell into the familiar rhythm of fighting at Shiro’s side, trusting that even though Kuron wasn’t quite _his_ Shiro, he’d still have his back.

It felt like they were turning the tide. Lance’s carefully picked shots dropped bot after bot, Hunk sent whole groups falling under his heavy cannon fire, Allura and Pidge flung them around with ease. Having Shiro there bolstered them all, even if it wasn’t _quite_ Shiro.

Keith spun to flash Kuron a smile, and Kuron gave him one back, but Kuron’s face fell quickly.

“Keith, behind!” Keith whirled to meet the threat, bringing around his shield, but he wasn’t fast enough, and --

He felt a body slam into his, shoving him out of the way.

It took him a moment to get his bearings, and then he turned, and there was Kuron, lying on the ground with a laser blast wound in the chest.

 _“Shiro!”_ It came out as a desperate, agonized scream, and Keith dropped to his knees, raising his shield to cover them. Distantly, he heard Lance yell in rage, and the sentry that had shot at Keith and hit Kuron dropped, but his entire focus was on the man lying on the ground. He carefully pulled Kuron into his lap. “Hang on, please,” he begged, desperately.

“Sorry, Keith,” Kuron said, and it was only when he reached up to cup Keith’s cheek and brushed a tear away with his thumb that Keith even realized he was crying. “I know I’m not him, but….I can at least do what he’d do.”

“Please, no.” Keith said, like if he pleaded enough, he would be able to deny that this was happening, that he was losing Shiro all over again.

“I think...he really does love you too, you know,” Kuron said, and then his eyes closed and he went limp in Keith’s arms.

He was gone.

 

* * *

 

Keith finally told the rest of the team the truth when they got back to the castle, Kuron’s cold body in tow. The others were angry, of course, when they realized Keith knew Kuron had been a clone and had kept that from them. Furious, really - and that was only fair. He’d helped lie to them, and that was almost inexcusable.

He wondered, vaguely, if they would trust him to lead them after this. Lance, probably not. He barely trusted Keith’s leadership on the best days (because Keith _was_ sort of a terrible leader, only a terrible leader would have let the deception go on that long). Allura even less likely - Keith was still half-sure she was waiting for him to prove his Galra heritage and ruin them all. Hunk and Pidge, maybe, they were both too kind and forgiving for their own good.

It didn’t matter. Maybe he could get Allura to step up and take the lead, because he wasn’t sure he could do it anymore. Losing Shiro, finding him -- even if it wasn’t _really_ him, it was...it was still _Shiro --_ and losing him all over again had broken something fundamental in him.

What was he supposed to do, now that he was alone?

 

* * *

 

It took a week of wandering the castle in a heartbroken haze before the thought occurred to him.

He wasn’t _really_ alone. There was something of Shiro left with him - something of _Kuron,_ technically, but it was…it was still Shiro, _he_ was still Shiro, and it had been stupid of Keith to ever deny that.

He made his way to the hangar, to the damaged Galra fighter they’d found Kuron in, and climbed inside, curling up in the pilot's seat. Kuron had mentioned making pilot logs, and then laughed them off, saying there wasn’t any point in anyone hearing them, but now…

Now there was. It would let Keith hear his voice, listen to one last thing connecting them together.

He turned on the logs, and played them back.

_“Pilot log: I am one day out of Thacerix. I have lost visual and radar contact with Voltron. I am continuing course on the same heading…”_

He drifted, listening to Shiro’s voice as he outlined the increasingly desperate circumstances of his chase after Voltron and his drift through the universe, and Keith felt his heart break all over again with every passing day.

It was around day five that he started coughing up flowers.

 _“I can’t die out here,”_ Shiro’s recorded voice said. _“I don’t want to die out here. I want to get back to them. I...want to see Keith again.”_

And then, on day seven:

_“This will be my last entry. Keith, if you find this after I’m gone...I believe in you, and I know you’ll be able to lead Voltron to victory. But more than that, I love you. I’m sorry I never got the chance to tell you myself, but I need you to know.”_

Keith curled into a ball and sobbed, brokenly. It was like losing him all over again, for the third time. He wasn’t sure how many more reminders he could take that he’d been _so close,_ that if he had just...put all his suspicions aside and let himself accept Kuron as Shiro, he could have had what he’d longed for.

It wouldn’t have quite been real, and it might have killed him, but it would have been better than this. Better than having his heart ripped out over and over again and tossed aside.

Anything had to be better than this.

 

* * *

 

Lance found him in the fighter, curled up in a ball, surrounded by bloody purple petals.

“Leave,” Keith said sharply, because the last person he wanted to be around when he was torn to shreds emotionally was the one person he expected to mock him for it. No matter what progress they’d made - and there was no denying that they were something almost like friends, now - Lance was still Lance.

“I don’t think leaving you alone right now is a good idea,” Lance said. “You kinda look like a mess.”

“Thanks,” Keith said dryly, and winced, because his voice sounded raw and terrible from crying and from coughing, “I had no idea.”

“You know, the rest of the team is worried about you.” Lance said, surprisingly gently. Keith snorted. He wasn’t made of glass, Lance didn’t need to act like he was.

“I’m fine,” he said sharply.

“Really?” Lance asked. “Because, uh, these,” he picked up one of the bloody flower petals, waving it in front of Keith’s face, “say different. What are you gonna do, curl up in here and listen to his pilot logs until it kills you?”

“I don’t know,” Keith said. “Maybe.”

“Come on, man,” Lance said. “You’ve gotta know we need you to lead us. Haven’t you...thought about getting the surgery?”

“I’ve thought about it,” Keith acknowledged. And he had. He’d always immediately dismissed the possibility, but he _had_ thought about it, so he wasn’t _lying,_ per se.

“So why not do it?” Lance asked.

“Because,” Keith said, “I can’t...I can’t give up on him. If there’s even the tiniest chance I might see him again…”

“You can keep looking for him without being in love with him,” Lance said, and Keith shook his head.

“That’s not it, Lance,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right,” Lance agreed, “I don’t understand. I don’t get it at all.”

“I just...I can’t lose him.” Keith said quietly. “These feelings, the flowers...they’re all I’ve got right now. I’ve loved him for as long as I’ve known him, Lance, I can’t just...let that go. I can’t give up on it.”

“So you’re gonna die,” Lance said flatly.

“Not if we bring Shiro home first.” Keith said, voice soft. Because he had to believe. He had to believe that if they brought him back, there was a chance Shiro loved him too. He had to believe Kuron’s feelings hadn’t come from nowhere. He had to believe that somewhere, out there, his Shiro wanted to come home as much as Keith wanted him back. “He…” Keith felt himself tearing up again. “Kuron, the...the clone, he said he thought Shiro loved me too. I have to keep hoping, Lance. It’s all I’ve got.”

“Okay,” Lance said, softly. “Then we’ll help you. We’ll bring him back. But you gotta keep fighting until we do.”

“I can do that,” Keith said.

He had to.

 

* * *

 

Keith knew he was going to die.

In the weeks since they’d lost Kuron, his hanahaki had progressed terrifyingly rapidly. He found himself coughing more often than not - it wasn’t just triggered by rushes of fondness anymore, or by thoughts of Shiro, or anything else. It was just a fact of his life. He wanted to keep fighting, like he'd told Lance he would, but there were things he had to accept.

It was funny. It seemed that having Shiro - a Shiro, any Shiro - present actually slowed the progress of the disease, like, paradoxically, his unrequited feelings ached less when their object was near.

But the clone was dead, and the real Shiro was still nowhere to be found, despite Slav’s redoubled efforts to seek him out, and Keith was dying. His breath came shallower and weaker, and as much as he didn’t want the team to worry, or their allies to know, there was no choice. They had to find a new Paladin. Allura, Keith suspected, would take Black - she and Lance worked well together, and she was decisive and clever and a good Paladin, and a known quantity. Someone else would have to take Blue, but she was the most welcoming of new pilots.

At least this time, they had time.

Keith’s personal choice for the new paladin was Kolivan. He trusted the leader of the Blade of Marmora, and he knew the rest of the team did too. Once he spoke to them about it and was sure everyone else was onboard - albeit reluctantly, none of them seemed particularly willing to accept that it was necessary - he carved out time to speak to him, one on one, at one of the Blade’s bases.

“Keith!” Kolivan greeted, with as much enthusiasm as he gave anything. It made Keith smile, faintly. Kolivan was like family - like the father he hadn’t had since he was a child.

“Kolivan,” he greeted, and he knew his voice sounded scratchy and terrible, and he watched Kolivan’s face fall when he took in Keith’s admittedly terrible state. “I have something to speak to you about.”

“Clearly,” Kolivan said. “Are you ill? Injured?” He stepped over, presumably to check on Keith, and Keith held up a hand.

“It’s…” He started coughing, because apparently the disease was eager to demonstrate itself on cue. “Yes,” he said, between coughs, “it’s. Hanahaki.” Not that he had to clarify, when Kolivan could see the flowers coming up into his hand. Kolivan’s expression softened, to something terribly, terribly sad.

“I see,” he said. Nothing else, no admonishments, no encouragements to seek treatment. Keith felt a wave of relief. At least someone wasn’t going to urge him to fight it. “What did you need to speak to me about?”

“I’m fighting for as long as I can,” Keith admitted, “but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to pilot a lion. We’ll need a fifth, and...I’d like it to be you. I think it’s important that people see Galra fighting against the empire, to remind them that it isn’t...that we aren’t all Zarkon or Lotor.” Kolivan was silent for a long moment. Keith was sure he was considering it as seriously as he considered everything.

“Yes,” Kolivan said, finally, “I agree. I will take your place as a Paladin of Voltron, if I must. It would be an honor.”

“Thank you,” Keith said. He left Kolivan feeling more hopeful than he had in a long while.

 

* * *

 

He fought for as long as he could. When it got too bad, he began spending time in the healing pods, an hour or so each day, to slow the progress of the disease. It worked, for a while, keeping him going, but eventually, when it hurt more to breathe than he could bear and he had trouble standing up after sitting down for a long fight in the cockpit, and his orders were constantly being interrupted by racking, terrible coughs, even Keith had to admit it was beyond him.

Kolivan integrated into the team smoothly, and Allura made a wonderful, clever, decisive head of Voltron. Slav was working day and night to try and bring Shiro home, and Keith appreciated it, but even though he was certain they would succeed, Keith was pretty sure it would be far too late for him.

It was good to know that even if Keith didn’t live long enough to see it, the universe, at least, would be free.

 

* * *

 

Shiro gasped.

Everything hurt - that was the first thing he registered, and then a clamor of voices and a loud, surprised shout.

“Shiro!” There were a pair of arms around him, and then another, and another, and another.

He knew that voice. He knew exactly who that was, and he jerked his head up and felt a cascade of relief.

“Lance,” he said. And it wasn’t just Lance. It was Pidge, and Hunk, and Allura, and Coran, all piled on him in a tight embrace.

His friends. His team. They were all okay. _He_ was okay.

This obviously wasn’t the inside of his lion, but it also wasn’t the strange between-realm he’d been floating in for God only knew how long.  Now he was in the Black Lion’s hangar if the Castle of Lions, though it had been rigged up with strange, unfamiliar equipment, much of it hooked to the Lion. He glanced around, and there was Slav - which almost didn’t surprise him. If anyone could reach into wherever he’d been and yank him back where he belonged, he supposed it was definitely going to be Slav.

“I told you,” Slav said, blatantly celebratory, “the Lion was the key! There are so many realities, and so many Shiros, we had to find the right one, and she was the anchor we needed!” None of that made all that much sense to Shiro, but Allura laughed and nodded, and he supposed it must have meant something to her. “Do you remember where you were?”

“I remember...floating,” Shiro said. “It was strange, like I wasn’t really anywhere. I was just…between places.” He shook his head. Slav tapped a set of fingers against the desk.

“A pocket between realities, perhaps - somewhere the Lion could send you to keep you safe.” He said. Shiro shrugged.

“How are you feeling?” Allura asked. “No ill effects?”

“I’m a little tired,” Shiro admitted, “but otherwise, no, I think I’m okay.” He cast another glance around the room, and frowned slightly.

He’d had a lot of time to think, floating in that empty place, and he’d thought a lot about one very specific person. Someone he’d definitely expected to be there to greet him, but…he was missing.

“Where’s Keith?” He asked. The question was met with worried looks exchanged between everyone else there, and Shiro frowned. “Did something happen?”

“This is…one you should see for yourself,” Lance said, and that absolutely terrified him. Whatever he’d thought about, he hadn’t even considered that something might have happened to Keith while he was gone.

“Take me to him,” Shiro demanded, pushing himself into a standing position. “Now.”

 

* * *

 

It was worse than he had imagined.

Shiro had sort of expected some kind of injury, because Keith was a strong fighter but also a reckless one. He had not expected to find him in bed, propped up in a sitting position by pillows, surrounded by flower petals and barely clinging to consciousness.

“We had been putting him in the healing pods every day,” Coran said, quietly, “but it stopped helping, eventually. I offered to cryofreeze him, but he refused.”

It broke Shiro’s heart to see it. Keith was dying, almost dead, and it was very probably because of him.

“Leave us alone?” He requested, and then he shut the door to reinforce the request. He walked over to the bed and carefully sat down on it, taking one of Keith’s hands in both of his. Keith stirred, slowly, and lifted his head, and gave Shiro an absolutely beatific smile.

“Oh, Shiro,” he breathed, and then he started coughing, and a cascade of flowers came up, and so did a splattering of blood. Shiro reached up to carefully wipe away the blood from Keith’s lips, and noticed that Keith’s eyes weren’t quite focusing on him. “This is nice,” he said, almost distantly. “I thought I’d die without seeing you again, but here you are.” Keith reached up and his hand rested on Shiro’s cheek, and his expression became almost painfully fond. “It’s good to have you back, if that’s…really you.”

“It is, I’m here,” Shiro said. “It’s good to be back.”

“Just in time, too,” Keith said, and he managed a weak little laugh. “So...Slav did it?” He sighed, briefly. “I don’t know if I believe you’re actually here. It...seems too perfect.”

“Keith, I swear, it’s me,” Shiro said, a little pleadingly. “Please believe me.”

“I want to,” Keith said. He coughed, faintly, and a few stray petals came up.

“How did you let it get this bad?” Shiro asked. It killed him to see Keith like this, weak and exhausted and barely breathing. “Can’t anyone out here treat it?”

“The Blade has a medic who thought he might be able to,” Keith confessed, “but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just...let that go. Let you go.” He coughed, again, and Shiro felt another surge of panic. “Giving up on loving you would’ve felt like giving up on ever getting you back. I…I couldn’t do that.”

“Keith,” Shiro said his name a little desperately, “no, I would’ve understood. I’d rather you be alive.”

“Sorry,” Keith said, “it’s selfish, I know, to hold on like this.” He gave Shiro a wan smile. “But I do. Love you. I want you to know that. Even if you don’t feel the same way.” And then he started coughing again, a horrible, racking noise, and his eyes closed, and he sank back into the pillows, and for a moment Shiro was terrified his breathing had stopped.

“Keith, no, please,” he leaned in and rested his forehead against Keith’s, feeling the prick of tears at the corners of his eyes. “I can’t lose you. I love you, I do. _Please.”_

Keith was terribly still, until he sat up and doubled over, coughing one last time, but this time all that came up was a single silver lily. His eyes fluttered open, and he leaned over and curled up against Shiro.

“It’s you,” he said weakly. “It’s really you. You’re back.”

“I’m back,” Shiro said. “I’m back, and I love you, and I’m not letting you go again.”

 

* * *

 

Keith’s recovery was slow and painful. Although the flowers in his lungs were gone, the damage they’d done was left behind, and while now that the underlying cause was gone there was more the healing pods could do, they couldn’t fix everything. There were still moments when he couldn’t quite catch his breath, or when physical activity left him dizzy.

That was fine with Shiro. As long as Keith was alive, and by his side, he could take as long to recover as he needed. Once he was no longer bedbound, Keith wasted no time in moving his things into Shiro’s room, and they settled into a comfortable rhythm of living around each other. It was funny how little changed in their relationship in public - Shiro was freer with affection, stealing kisses and little touches whenever he could, but really, it felt like he and Keith had been lovers for a long time and were only now acknowledging it.

Shiro took back piloting duties first; Kolivan happily bowed out to return to leading the Blade full time, and Allura shifted back to Blue. It felt good to fly again, like he belonged in Black’s seat - and there was nothing tugging or pulling or trying to tear him away from her. She was _his Lion,_ because he had _won._

Keith was always waiting for him when he landed with a kiss, and no matter how much teasing it brought from the rest of the team, Shiro wouldn’t trade it for anything.

It was a few months in, and Keith was finally starting to look significantly better. He was having an easier time breathing, and he could go through an entire training spar - against Shiro or against the bots - without having to pause and cough or catch his breath. Shiro caught the end of a particularly long session, watching Keith swipe the bot off its feet and drive his luxite sword into its chest, and when Keith was done Shiro swept him into a hug and a kiss.

“You’re looking better,” he said warmly.

“Yeah,” Keith said, and he grinned. “I _am_ better. I think…” He held Shiro’s eyes, and his expression became serious. “I want to fly again, if the Lions will have me. I want to be a Paladin.”

“Are you sure?” Shiro asked, frowning. “You don’t have to. Everyone will understand.”

“The universe needs Voltron, and the Castle needs Allura.” Keith said. “And I want to do this. Please, Shiro.”

“Okay,” Shiro said, and he smiled fondly down at Keith. “We can do that.”

“Good,” Keith said, “because there’s nothing I want more than to be fighting at your side again.”

Shiro leaned down to steal another kiss. That was what he wanted more than anything, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr, at [noirsongbird](http://noirsongbird.tumblr.com/)!


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